Ghost stories from Psychic

The Hollow Uniform

I first saw him at the edge of the orchard, a thin figure in a faded gray coat, his face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. I thought he was a...

Read Story →

The Cartographer of Unmade Rooms

I never told anyone about the blueprints. Not my wife, not my doctor, not even Father Malloy when he came to bless the house after little Tommy next door started...

Read Story →

The Stag’s Gaze

I’ve spent half my life trying to convince myself that the things I see aren’t real. I’ve picked apart every vision, every flicker of premonition, and every cold spot in...

Read Story →

The Last Threshold

I never thought I’d fear my own kitchen, but that’s where the boundary between worlds has worn thin. My name is Elara, and I’ve been a medium for thirty years....

Read Story →

The Third Call

The first time I saw the ambulance, I was thirteen, standing at the window of my aunt’s house in the town of Duskhollow. The town was a cluster of old...

Read Story →

The Cinder Visitor

My grandmother, Elara, always said that the veil between worlds grows thin when the fire burns low. She claimed she saw her own mother, Agnes, step out of the glowing...

Read Story →

The Blue Static on Channel 13

I never planned to tell anyone about the visions. They started, I think, with the radio in my grandpa’s barn—a battered old Philco that crackled with weather reports from thirty...

Read Story →

The Closet of Red

Mara and her boyfriend, Liam, had spent weeks searching for a new apartment, their current one a constant drone of highway noise. So when they found a listing in the...

Read Story →

The Girl Who Wouldn’t Leave

The house on Maple Street had always felt like a sanctuary to Greg. It was a modest two-story Victorian with creaky floorboards and a lingering smell of old wood and...

Read Story →

The Perfume of the Unseen

I first noticed it when I was six, standing in the dusty aisles of my grandmother’s antique shop. A smell like rain on hot pavement, though the sky was a...

Read Story →

The Night the Ferns Trembled

I never questioned Gran’s stories until the night I saw the ferns tremble. It was the summer I turned fourteen, and I was staying with her in the small Cornish...

Read Story →

The Marble Knocker

In the autumn of 1997, my grandmother passed away, leaving me her small antique shop in the dusty outskirts of a town called Grey Hollow. The shop, crammed with relics...

Read Story →

The Hitching Post

My buddy, Dave, called me on a Tuesday night, his voice raw and shaky. He lived out in the sticks of Ohio, in a house his grandparents had left him—an...

Read Story →

The Bone Harvest

Mai had always been wary of the dreams. In her family, dreams were not mere nighttime fancies but messages from the unseen world, omens to be heeded. Her mother, a...

Read Story →

The Chromatic Aftermath

I never believed in ghosts or gods or anything beyond the visible world. That was before the accident, before the colors came. My name is Evelyn Hart, and I grew...

Read Story →

The Gilded Threshold

In the autumn of 1987, a young woman named Clara chose a going-away present for her fiancé, Marcus, who had just enlisted in the Coast Guard. She wandered into a...

Read Story →

The Lantern Keeper’s Debt

The old lighthouse on Porphyry Point had been abandoned for decades, but the town of Greyharbor still told stories about the keeper who vanished with his daughter in the winter...

Read Story →

The Staircase in the Hill

I never expected to find comfort in a list of rules, but that’s what it had become—a litany of small, inexplicable events that started when I was twenty-one, each one...

Read Story →

The Lilac Warning

In the first year of our marriage, my husband and I rented a small cottage on the edge of a sleepy town called Ashford Hollow. The cottage was a relic...

Read Story →

The Headless Lantern

The town of Ashwick had a way of keeping secrets, but the murk of the marsh that bordered it was worse. It swallowed sounds, swallowed light, and on certain nights,...

Read Story →

The Light in the Hall

My name is Elara, and I’ve never been able to tell people about my ability. It’s not something you casually drop into conversation. I see things—glimpses of events that haven’t...

Read Story →

The Listener in the Corner

Our house on Maple Street had always felt… heavy. Not in a bad way, but like it was holding its breath, waiting for something. Every Thursday at eight, my parents...

Read Story →

The Hollow Table

I never understood why the dead chose me. They came like moths to a flickering porch light, drawn by something I couldn’t name. Most were gentle, lost souls yearning for...

Read Story →

The Woman in the Window’s Reflection

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in the autumn of last year, and my sister Vera and I were sitting in the sunroom of our childhood home, catching up over...

Read Story →